


Tell Me the Story

by Shin_Min_Hee9



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: AU – Modern, Barduil - Freeform, Child Legolas, Cuz Legolas And Aragorn Are Besties, I Know That's A Common Build, Like Ent Slow, M/M, Penny-pincher Thranduil, Probably Aragorn, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Storyteller Thrandy and Leggy, Teacher Bard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-13 18:17:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3391457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shin_Min_Hee9/pseuds/Shin_Min_Hee9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil tells his son stories of a fairytale world, and the child thinks it's all real. His teacher worries for the child, and the strain he causes on the relationship between the two. Their lives clash before they meld.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer first: I own nothing, unless there happens to be an OC thrown into the mix. Thrandy doesn't own anything, either, but don't tell him that. Don't tell Legolas, either.  
> All rights and/or monies went to J.R.R. Tolkien and Peter Jackson. And the actors. And... all other book/movie staff? Hopefully?
> 
> It's 3:06 am.

“And the elves of Eryn Galen were the most connected to nature of their kin, having lived within the vast forests all their long lives. They spoke with the animals of the earth, sky, and sea, and with the trees and shrubs, and mosses and fluttering leaves. Nature whispered of their knowledge of the wide world, of the good and evil, the living and the dead, all into the pointy ears of the woodland elves.”

“But none heard like King Thranduil, right ada?”

“Nor his son, Legolas.” Thranduil smiled down at his little boy, only five years old, and kissed his forehead. The child's wide blue eyes stared up at his father, glimmering in innocent and carefree wonder. The two had strung a fairytale land from their imaginations, them being the main characters. Thranduil had thought to write it all down, save the stories for Legolas when he grew older and had a family of his own. The man his son would grow to be could read the stories to his own little ones, or add on with them. 

“More, ada, more!” Legolas curled up further in his father's lap. Thranduil smiled at the term 'ada'. Legolas claimed it meant 'father' in elvish. So they had made a whole language based on their other world. Legolas loved the stories because his imagination was allowed to run rampant. Thranduil indulged him because it allowed him an escape from the hardships of this life. 

“Ma, ma. Settle down, little leaf,” Thranduil wrapped his arms around the boy's tiny body and pulled their blanket up to cover his son. “The wind whispered softly to the Elvenking of a beast that had taken lordship in the Lonely Mountains, and drove the dwarves out of Erebor. A great and terrible thing, with wings more massive than the Eagles, teeth deadly and giant, and of fire... Destruction, Defiler...”

“A dragon!”

“A firedrake!” Legolas gasped and burrowed closer to his ada's chest, hiding his face in the crook of his neck. He appeared scared, but his eyes were again wide in awe, and Thranduil continued the story, his voice dropping and rising with the events. After a while, Legolas had fallen asleep in the man's lap, and the father sighed. He was loathe to lay his little boy, his little leaf, in his own bed. He was all Thranduil had left in the world, and his child kept wonderment and laughter in his life. 

Looking around their small apartment, Thranduil finally gathered Legolas up and stood, moving to the child's room to put him to bed. The small room was a cluster of toys and strewn clothes, and the walls decorated in the theme of Peter Pan. The little bed was plain without its ornaments and bed spread, but that too was hidden by Robin Hood blankets and pillows. It looked as if Legolas was a spoiled rich kid, but... Spoiled, probably. Rich, never had he been. The boy squirmed when he was laid down until he was comfortable. “Gi melin, ada...” and the child was lost to the world of elves and dwarves, wizards and dragons, and he was leaping across tree tops...

“Gi melin, Legolas. Ollo vae.” He kissed his son's forehead and brushed his golden hair from his face before turning on the night light, and quietly stepped out. He left the door cracked, as Legolas would sometimes wander to his father's room to sleep. 

It was 10:30 barely, when Thranduil slumped into a chair at the kitchen table. Bills needed to be sorted and paid, loans had to be taken care of, and the rest of his money would have to be rationed out so they would last the month. And Legolas's birthday was coming up. No matter how broke they were, Thranduil couldn't stop from indulging his son, even when he wasn't asked to. And Legolas only ever asked for things on his birthday. The heavy burden of life came back to rest on the man's shoulders, and he went about making coffee. He was going to need it, if he hoped to get their finances sorted, and start on a new art piece.

`~`~`~`

The bus was going to be late, as the snow had stopped traffic on the main streets, and Thranduil was relived when he could stop scrambling to get Legolas ready for school. Moving from London to the States, Texas no less, wasn't something Thranduil had enjoyed. The weather was... horrifically unpredictable. Just last week the sun was out, and now there was snow. He understood it was winter still, but for Valor's sake it would be much easier to plan ahead if the weather would just... not. 

The two were able to eat breakfast, and soon the bus was pulling to the stop, and Legolas ran out after a kiss to his father's cheek. “Galu, ada!” He waved his little mitted hand and almost slipped on the packed snow in his hurry. Thranduil shook his head and smiled. His son was ever giving him gray hairs. Not that they would be noticeable mixed with his silver-gold hair, which was pulled back into a sleep-messy bun. He had fallen asleep at the table.

“Novaer!” He chuckled and stood watching until the bus was out of sight. It was silly, he knew, but he always missed his little boy whenever they were apart.

Sleep deprived and veins pumped full of caffeine, Thranduil yawned and shuffled to the couch. He reached under the coffee table and pulled out his sketch book. He had an online shop were people would request works of art, and they paid a great sum for his art. Sketches, water or oil paints, paintings, pottery, even computer graphics. He'd had some requests for photography such as senior pictures, weddings, baby photos, and family portraits. But this was only a side hobby, which he'd started years ago due to his tight financial situation. His “real” job was at the public library. He did love books, but the people that went there were so... ridiculously incompetent, and they treated books so carelessly. It drove Thranduil mad. Sighing, the man focused on the blank page before him.

His latest requests were for sketches of dragons or griffons, vampires and fairies, skulls and things of death. He started the makings of a dragon...

Firedrake...

… Smaug, the Defiler. The treasure trove, the Arkenstone that crowned the King Under the Mountain. A little hobbit. Pillars. Endless caves. Flames.

Thranduil had sat for hours and after, he was staring at the dragon from his story, the massive body wrapped around mounds of gold and precious gems, his enormous maw open as fire shot out. A hobbit stood before the monster, and in his hand was a glimmering stone. The Arkenstone. He decided that this one would have color, and soon he was penciling in the warm tones. It was near time the bus would be dropping Legolas off, and Thranduil was scanning the piece into the computer to upload it, and send it to the one who'd requested it. He couldn't wait to show Legolas the picture. He would let him name the hobbit.

With a smile, Thranduil showered and got ready for the rest of the day. He paid the online bills and gathered the paper ones into a folder. He never did his errands without his son, wanting as much time with the little ball of energy as he could get. They would go shopping to restock on food after the more pressing errands were done, and then maybe they would stop for ice cream. He never understood why, but ice cream was always better when it was cold outside. He heard the whine of the bus pull up and immediately Thranduil was outside, opening the gate to meet Legolas. His son ran to him with a wide smile and threw his arms around his father's neck.

“Come, we have things to do, little leaf.” Legolas squirmed and giggled when Thranduil kissed his cheek sloppily, knowing the little boy would claim to hate it. But he'd never wipe his cheek. 

`~`~`~`

That night, the two laid curled up in Thranduil's bed. Legolas clapped gleefully at the picture of the dragon and hobbit, dubbing the Shire dweller as Bilbo Baggins. 

“He's from Bagg-end, so 'course he's a Baggins.” Legolas nodded, looking as if his own logic was sound. Which it was, in the world were a man became a bear, and men were often times more beautiful than women. But only elven men. 

“Of course, little leaf. It only makes sense.” Thranduil nuzzled his son's hair, wet still from his shower – shower because “if ada showers, so will I” - and continued their story. 

“As the firedrake swooped down on Laketown, the Master fled with a barge filled with the town's treasures. His greed overshadowed even his fear of dragon fire, and it was to be his downfall.”

“But someone will take the bad dragon down, right? An archer, like Robin Hood! With... a black arrow! A big one, the only thing that can bring him down!”

“Yes, an archer, a bowman! A simple bargeman that wanted only to protect his children, and end the desolation of Smaug. He shot arrow after arrow, standing on the tallest bell tower in the town on the water. But it wasn't to be that Smaug would end by naught but a small arrow. The bargeman's son brought to him the Black Arrow, the last of its make, to kill the dragon.”

“But the bow broke!”

“The bow broke, and all seemed lost. The beast landed on Laketown, his body all but leveling the homes and shops. The man and son stood facing one another, Smaug stalked toward them, taunting the bowman. But the man looked to his son, and took his courage from his child. The hope and joy the boy brought to his life, along with his two daughters, gave him the strength to carry on.”

Legolas shifted in his father's lap and faced him. “'Look at me,'” he placed his little hands on Thranduil's cheeks, his blue eyes fierce as he was lost in their world. “He said to his son, 'You look at me',” Thranduil swallowed the lump formed in his throat, his own translucent blue eyes stung with held in tears.

“And they held gazes, the bowman creating a bow with the broken string, the arrow, and his son's shoulder. They held gazes, the fear falling from them, and only was hope left. The archer shifted his eyes just as Smaug took flight. He spiraled on the town, but the bowman-”

“Bard.”

“Bard focused on the spot where scales lifted to reveal the beating heart of the Destroyer. With his son's eyes locked on him, Bard breathed in, breathed out, and released the Black Arrow.”

“Argh!” Legolas slapped his hands over his heart and flailed back, screeching horribly. He laid on the bed, his eyes crossed and his tongue hanging out.

“Yes!” Thranduil laughed and tackled his son, tickling the child back to life. “That is exactly how Smaug looked as he lay in the center of Laketown, slain!”

The two carried on like that until they fell asleep, sprawled out on King Thranduil's bed, the little elf prince Legolas with his head on his ada's chest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahheeheehee! People are reading this o.o I am happy~

Bard sighed as he downed the last of his coffee, and headed from the teacher's lounge. Really, he enjoyed being a teacher. It was rewarding when the children finally got it down to read without faltering, and to hear them push forward with an unknown word. Or when he'd see their spelling tests and stories written in sloppy, far too-big letters, and give them A's. Or when they'd play games together, despite the color of their skin or lilt of varying accents. Children were so perfect in their acceptance of each other, yet to be impacted by the prejudices of adults.

Though, now he knew this wasn't always the case. He'd seen, since his newest student arrived, that children could be just as cruel as any grown man or woman. The boy was, Bard had to admit, odd. Very odd. He looked like any other child, though his ears garnered him much teasing. They were pointed in a curious way, and Bard often found himself staring while the kids were reading silently, or testing. He would get angry when the others would pick on him about his little ears, among other things. The teacher had to stop himself from asking why they were so, as it was a nagging curiosity. Surly, the boy got enough grief from his peers about his ears. He didn't need his teacher badgering him.

Then there was his speech. Not his British accent, no, but his manner of speaking. Most of the time it was... Medieval, for lack of a better term. Polite and regal, as if he thought himself a prince. And he'd say he was one when he became riled up. And then he'd go into some strange language, which Bard had assumed was babble from a five year old. But he soon learned the alien tongue had a rhyme and reason. There was a fluidity and constant round, giving Bard the thought that maybe the words had meaning, a thing that could be translated. The man often found himself wondering where the child had learned it, as he had looked it up one day – he had jotted down a few words he could possibly spell and googled them – only to find they meant nothing. 

Oh, and his writings. The little boy's calligraphy, for that's what it was, was lovely for a five year old. Or for anyone. Bard could only imagine what grueling lessons his parents put him though for him to have such handwriting. But to read his stories with such grand lettering was truly a feeling worth feeling. It gave Bard hope for mankind. 

All in all, the boy was an enigma. He was the least liked among the children in his class, but Bard held him with the highest regard. And the child seemed not to care what was thought of him, almost as if he knew the inane teasing of children wouldn't affect him in the long run. And he always happily came and left the class room. As far as Bard knew, he had not a worry in the world; not inside the school with his grades, or outside with his home life. 

Today was Open House, so Bard would meet the parents of the strange little boy. A queasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach at the thought. What if they were those rich, fancy British types he'd seen in movies? Fantastic.

`~`~`~`

A series of sniggering brought Bard from his reverie and he glanced up to see a wad of paper being past around. Not again. Before he could stop it, the paper reached Legolas, who opened it with a bored expression. And his look didn't change as he read it, nor as he wadded it back up and tossed it behind him. There was no trash bin behind him, but it didn't seem to matter. He just returned to his his book and continued reading in silence. That seemed to dissuade the children from badgering him further, and they, too, went back to their books with sneers. Bard sighed and stood, going to pick the paper up. He opened it up to see stick figures with large ears and mean words - “POINTY EAR FREAK”, “SPOILED BRAT”, “GO BACK TO NEVERLAND”, and one that really sent a boil to Bard's blood “FAGGOT” - scrawled across the paper. Heat had never even risen in Legolas's face to show he was affected by the paper. 

“Close your books. Now.” Bard clenched the paper, and some students had the mind to look sheepish, some ashamed. Legolas only blinked and did as he was told, though obvious confusion was written across his features.

After a moment of strained silence, Bard walked to the front of the class on leaned against his desk, facing the students. He looked them all over with disappointment. “Who started this?” He held up the paper, another stretch of silence ringing loudly. “Who. Started. This? Someone had better answer me, and it'd better be right now.” His tone was stern, and his anger was seeping through. The students shifted uncomfortably. Just as a girl in the corner squirmed to raise her hand, Legolas's tinkling voice rang out.

“It's all right, Mr. Bowman. It matters not what they think.” Because that's the answer King Thranduil would give. His chubby legs kicked back and forth, and he tried his hardest to look firm. Which only resulted in his cheeks, chubby as they were already, puffing a bit more. “I know I am loved.”

Bard's heart fluttered at his words. He was always taken by surprise when Legolas would speak out against the others and their bullying. He never appeared hurt, and the teacher was beginning to really believe he wasn't impacted at all. What could possibly keep him so intact?

“That... that is true, Legolas, but they need to know that this,” he shook the paper, looking over his students. “Is not okay. You may not feel its sting, but another surly will one day.” Sighing, he shook his head. A long, drawn out speech about bullying wouldn't do any good to a bunch or five year olds. Their attention on the issue was already waning, if the blank stares and doodles were anything to go by. But... “None of you will have recess for the week, and no candy day this Friday.” Indignant groans and outcries rose up, but thankfully the bell rang, signaling lunch. The kids stood up in a huff and rushed from the room. All but Legolas.

“You're not going, Mr. Greenleaf?” Bard regarded the boy with a small, tired smile.

“'Course I am. I have to eat, too.” Legolas pushed out of his chair to move and stand before Bard. “But Mr. Bowman, I see not why you had to make a spectacle of that.” He pointed to the paper still in Bard's hand with a frown. “It's only going to make them go at it worse, and I don't know if I can take it much longer.”

So there it was. The little child did hurt over their onslaught. He was so good at hiding it. Bard knelt down in front of the boy and let out a breath. “Oh, Legolas...” He ran a hand over the child's hair, amazed at how silky it was, even for a child. “I know that they are mean and wrong to be so. I don't know why they are the way they are with you.” He did know, but it made no sense regardless. Legolas was a bit odd, but he'd never done anything to warrant their scorn. “But it's like I said, they can't keep thinking it's okay to pick on you, because they will take that with them into life. And when you react so indifferently to them, they think they're not hurting you at all. And they continue to do these things, because they want that reaction from you. And...” He closed his eyes for a moment before looking into the bluest orbs he'd ever seen. “I can't stand to see them treat you so badly. Maybe it's because I'm a father, but it hurts my heart.” Legolas nodded.

“I understand now, Mr. Bowman. And my ada would be sad, too, if he knew. He'd cry for sure.”  
Legolas looked down as if ashamed he was being bullied. Bard had to wonder at that. What kind of relationship did he have with his parents, to make him feel bad for being the victim?

“What does 'ada' mean, Legolas?”

“It's 'father' in Sindarin. That's the language spoken in the Great Greenwood.”

And with that, the boy spun around and ran out, no doubt heading to the cafeteria. Bard stood, looking after him with a chuckle. He'd looked the word up, but nothing came up that would lead him to another language. Now that he had 'Sindarin' and 'Great Greenwood' to go on... Nothing. A great big fucking nothing. Bard sat back and ran his hands through his hair, groaning in aggravation. 'Sindarin' and 'Great Greenwood' were not legitimate things. He would definitely have to speak with Legolas's 'ada' about his imagination.

`~`~`~`

Legolas had just sat down to eat when a few children started in on their daily snide remarks about him. He had stopped really listening to them shortly after he started school there, but he still heard. 

“What's with his ears?” - He hated that one. He got his ears from his ada, and he loved them both.

“He's such a teacher's pet.” - He wasn't sure what that one meant. He wasn't a pet.

“He acts like he's royalty.” - Well, he was prince of Eryn Galen, so... duh.

The boy sighed and ate his pizza, once again not giving in to the urge to lash out at the whisperers. He used to do that, but then thought of what the Elvenking would do. Legolas was content to be like his ada, and besides, not everyone was mean. 

“Hey, Legolas!” He turned a bright smile to his friend, Tilda. She was Mr. Bowman's youngest child, and Legolas's best friend. His only friend, really.

"Hello, Tilda!" Legolas stood and pulled her chair out for her to sit, ever the gentleman his ada has taught him to be. "What did you get for lunch today?" They always swapped whatever they might have wanted that the other had.

"Pizza, same as you, but they gave me salad instead of corn. I wanted corn..."

"You're in luck, mellon," Legolas smiled and pushed his tray closer to Tilda's. "I got corn and wanted salad!" The two children sat and ate happily, chattering away as they ignored the sneers and whispers around them. Tilda was the one reason Legolas endured school, though at times he felt guilty. Being friends with him had isolated the girl when she could be surrounded by her peers.

Lunch ended too soon, and the friends parted ways.

"Bye, Legolas!" Tilda waved as her class split off from the line.

"Na lû e-govaned vîn!" He smiled bright, his little hand waving back.

"If you didn't talk like a baby, people wouldn't think you were dumb." Legolas turned and set the boy who had said the words in a puffy-cheeked glare.

"Ego, mibo orch!" He smirked haughtily at the boy who scrunched his nose in confusion. Normally Legolas wouldn't respond to their teasing, but today really had taken its toll. The pictures and scribbled words had been so mean... Even in his moment of puffed victory at leaving the other kid dumbfounded, Legolas felt a lump rise in his throat. He didn't know why he wasn't liked. "Pe-channas!"

"You're so stupid!" The next thing he felt was the tile of the hallway floor hard against his back, and his skull cracked loudly. Legolas cried out in pain, his face hot with anger, embarrassment, and pain. Tears formed in his eyes, the blue orbs slits as he glared hard. Scrambling to his feet, Legolas shrieked and tackled him, swiping at his face.

They scuffled for a few minutes before Bard came sliding around the corner. He had been talking with another teacher when he heard the screech. "What is going on?" His voice was loud and echoed in the hall, the other students parting from the fight immediately. "Legolas! Gimli!" He ran to pull Legolas off the red headed boy, a bit shocked he could get the bigger boy on his back. "What are you two doing?"

Legolas had tears streaming down his cheeks, his face red from exertion. "He was making fun of me!" The blonde boy wiped at his face, angry he'd let himself lose his control. 

"He was talking like a baby!" Gimli got to his feet and pulled at his clothes. Not much damage was done to the boy, so Bard turned his attention to Legolas. His first priority was to make sure they were both okay before scolding them. He saw a red spot on his shirt, where Legolas had his head laid against his shoulder.

`~`~`~`

Thranduil burst through the door to the main office of his son's school, his face pinched in worried fear. "Where is the nurse's office?" His voice was strained and as high pitched as his baritone would go. "Where's my son?" He huffed, having ran about the small space of his home in a rush to get dressed and sped to the school, then ran from where he parked down the street. His cheeks and nose were red from the cold and exercise, and his hair was pulled back into its usual messy bun.

"Calm down, sir. The nurse's office is just down the hall and to the left."

He hadn't really paid attention to the direction, his mind reeling after he'd been told to calm down. Thranduil rushed to the nurse and nearly threw the door off its hinges. "Legolas?"

"Ada!" Legolad leapt from his teacher's lap and into his father's arms, who knelt immediately and buried his face in the little boy's hair.

"Man agoreg, henig?" Thranduil held Legolas's face in his hands and examined his head, noting the cotton ball in his ear. Desperate fear gripped him, his brows furrowing.

"Goheno non, ada..." The boy's lips trembled before he broke down and cried, clinging to Thranduil. The man gathered his child in his arms and stood to face the man who cleared his throat.

`~`~`~`

Bard had taken Legolas to the nurse immediately after noticing the blood coming from his ear. He'd called the boy's father right after, and had stayed until the man showed up. What he hadn't been ready for was, 1. The words that were shared between them were of the same language Legolas often spouted in class, and 2. The man was... Beautiful. Tall, lean, pale like white marble, hair like silver-gold and was obviously long despite being in its messy bun, and his eyes... If Legolas had eyes like a clear blue sky, his father had eyes that were like looking at a winter's sky through an icicle. And his ears were pointed exactly like his son's. 

The teacher cleared his voice to rid himself of his awestruck wonder, and it succeeded in gaining the father's attention. Good. Bard needed to talk to him anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I added Gilmli. I just had to, and it's perfect that they fight in the beginning. Don't worry. As in the movies, they become friends. It just won't be very soon. And Tilda! Yay! I love that kid~
> 
> And next chapter, some Bard/Thranduil interaction will take place, as well as Aragorn's introduction! 
> 
> I'm not sure if I'm gonna do anything with his ear injury, or just have it heal and be nothing. Suggestions?
> 
> Mellon - Friend  
> Na lû e-govaned vîn - Until next we meet  
> Ego, mibo orch - Go kiss an orc  
> Pe-channas - Idiot  
> Man agoreg, henig? - What did you do, child?  
> Goheno non, ada - Forgive me, father


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aurelie: I felt the same way, even as I was writing it! 
> 
> Kalkiel: o.o First, I LOVE your story "The Charter"! I had a spazz moment when I saw you commented on my story! I know there is some kind of chromosomal condition that causes physical abnormalities like elongated ears, and sometimes ears that will come to a small point. A girl I worked with had very slightly pointed ears. I just can't remember the name of the condition. And I just love their precious little ears, and thought this would be a great excuse to keep them XD Also, I wanted the initial impression that the story was being told from memories of a past life, but really it's just an escape for them. That my goal was met makes me very happy!
> 
> If someone has an answer as to what the condition is called, I'd greatly appreciate if you would let me know!

The two adults regarded one another cooly; Bard taking in the blonde's rushed, but somehow still stunning, appearance, and Thranduil staring down at Bard as if the man had assaulted his child himself. Bard was taken aback by the accusation he saw in those chilling eyes, and the way Thranduil seemed to shield Legolas from him like he was going to try and take him away.

"Are you his teacher?" Bard startled at the tone of the man's voice - both the deep baritone and how smooth it was, and by the coldness in it. Just like the winter that raged outside. 

"I am. My name is Bard Bowman."

Thranduil couldn't hide his surprise at hearing the name, the one from the story of the dragonslayer, and turned to look down at his son. Legolas sniggered behind his hand, mischief gleeming in his eyes. Thranduil only smiled, beautifully Bard thought, down at the boy and shook his head. The teacher found it odd how the man's demeanor shifted from deadly guarded to amused and friendly. He was also perplexed by the silent exchange of humor between father and son. "Mr. Bowman, I'm Thranduil Greenleaf. If you could introduce me to the parents of the one who attacked my son, I'll be out of your hair."

Bard could just see the outcome of this meeting. The Okenshield family wasn't big on confrontation, and there was so many of them. And Gimli, as far as Bard knew, was the youngest. "Ah... Gimli was sent home. Suspended." Bard had had the foresight to get his parents to pick him up and take him home, in case Legolas's father wanted to meet with them. They were going to need some kind of police mediation, Bard just knew it.

"Suspended?" Thranduil snorted and hugged Legolas closer, the child whispering softly into the man's pointed ear - it had Bard fascinated with its shape and likeness to Legolas's ears - and the blonde sighed. "I would like to see to it that the child is properly punished, but if he's kept away from my son, then all the better. Though I hope his parents teach him to realize it's not okay to lay his hands on another."

"I hope that, too." Not likely, knowing the Okenshields. Thranduil moved to leave the nurse's office, intent on taking his son early and to see a doctor about his ear. "Ah, Mr. Greenleaf?" Thranduil turned to face Bard, his light rose petal-pink lips quirked into a smile as he regarded the teacher. "The parent-teacher meetings are after school. Will you be attending?" Thranduil's eyes widened as if he either forgot, or didn't know. Bard would bet Legolas hadn't told his father of the meeting.

"I... will be there." He stared his son down in mock anger, the words shared between the two in that alien language. 

`~`~`~`

"Why didn't you tell me there was a parent-teacher meeting, little leaf?" Thranduil was surprised Legolas had kept it from him; he used to tell his father of every event at his school in London, and the man couldn't keep from feeling a bit hurt that his son hadn't told him of his first meeting with his teacher. His favorite teacher, if his calling their bowman by the man's name. Bard Bowman... Thranduil smiled at the fitting name.

"Mmm..." Legolas was silent for a long while, staring out the window.

"Legolas?"

"I'm thinking..." He sounded strained, as if he wasn't sure what he was thinking about. Thranduil sighed quietly and took his eyes from the rearview mirror to stare straight. He could feel something was wrong, and he feared his baby was being bullied. That had to be it. His report cards were outstanding, the only thing lower than an A was the B Legolas had in math. But he knew that was because his son was more creative than he was calculative, and he wasn't about to be hard on him for that. Thranduil spent time with the child, teaching him mathematics as best he could, and Legolas was steadily improving.

He was either being bullied, or he was doing the bullying...

"Ionneg..." Thranduil prompted his son to say something, but all he did was jut out his lip in a pout and hold his ear. He knew it was hurting his son, but knew also that the boy was using it as a distraction. Legolas didn't want to talk about his reason.

"It hurts, ada." The anger returned as he thought of the child who had hurt Legolas. Thranduil gripped the steering wheel, his jaw clenching. 

"I know, baby. We're almost to the doctor." Thranduil pressed harder on the gas.

The trip to the doctor had been short, and thankfully nothing too damaging had been done to Legolas's ear. A small cut from whatever may have been on the floor in the hallway had caused the bleeding, and a small bump had formed behind his ear. He was checked for a concussion, and Thranduil was relieved to learn there wasn't one. The doctor gave him some medicine to clean the cut, to stave off infection, and recommended children's Advil if he got any headaches.

And Legolas was rewarded a sucker from the front desk clerk. He had never understood giving out suckers at a doctor's office. Especially the dentist. That was entirely counterproductive.

"So..." Thranduil started as he held his son's hand and walked inside their small home. "What am I going to hear about at this meeting?" Legolas tilted his head to his shoulder and pressed his palm to his injured ear, making small whimpering sounds. "Don't start that. Why do you not want to answer, Legolas?" He knelt down to help the boy take off his coat and scarf, trying to get his son to meet his gaze. "Are you getting into trouble?"

"No!" Legolas looked insulted at such an accusing question and managed a pouty glare at his father. "I didn't do anything!"

"Little leaf, calm down. I only want to know why you didn't tell me about the meeting." 

"I don't know!..." He did know, but he was holding out hope that Mr. Bowman wouldn't say anything about the mean paper, or how the children treated him. 

"Okay, all right. Just calm down." Thranduil pulled Legolas to him and hugged him for a long moment. He would find out at the meeting, so there was no use questioning his son.

`~`~`~`

The atmosphere was tense for father and son as they drove back to the school at 3:30. The snow fell harder, making Thranduil drive more slowly, carefully. He was always more careful when his son was involved. Legolas had drifted off by the time they reached the school.

Thranduil decided to let him sleep and carried him inside. He was apparently the last parent to arrive, if Bard cleaning up and getting ready to go was anything to go by. The teacher looked up when he heard someone enter his classroom. Tilda was on the bench beside his desk, curled up under his coat.

"Mr. Bowman, forgive my late timing." Bard was once again caught off guard by the man. His hair was down Noe, falling in straight, cascading silver-gold strands down his back and shoulders. 

"Ah, it's okay. I know the traffic is bad."

"Absolutely horrid." Bard chuckled, finding the British accent endearing in the midst of an utterly Texan town. His and his son's. Thranduil sighed deeply and rearranged Legolas in his arms.

"Here, you can lay him beside Tilda." Bard moved to male room for the boy, but Thranduil stayed where he was, his grip tightening on his son.

"It's quite all right, I like him where he is." Damn, could the man be any more protective? Or... 

"Okay," he held his hands up, smirking lightly. He did not, by any stretch of the imagination, find Thranduil adorable. At all. In any sense. His brain slapped him for his mental lie. "You can take a seat here." He pulled up a small plastic chair, which Thranduil sat in without a second thought. 

Holy damn, that was (not, absolutely not) the most absurdly cutest thing Bard had ever seen. The man looked ridiculous sitting there, his whole 6'something, long legs, domineering self, in a seat made for 5 year olds. He had to strain to keep from laughing. Instead, he cleared his throat and pulled out his file on Legolas. 

"I wanted to ask if there was a particular reason my son would not tell me of a parent-teacher meeting. Has there been some mishaps in class?"

Well, that was straight to the point. "He's a bright boy-"

"I know that."

Bard quirked a brow at the curt tone of the man's voice. He may be attractive in a way the teacher would never admit, because he wasn't in any way attracted to men, but damn was he rude. "Yes, well," Bard leaned against the white board, his arms crossed over his chest. "He has an issue with thinking he's some kind of prince."

A flicker of Thranduil's eyes told Bard that that was partly his fault. And suddenly Thranduil knew how that could turn out badly for his son. If the child acted snooty, he'd be treated as a snoot.

"That..."

"But..."

Both men looked up, their eyes meeting. Bard sighed, as did Thranduil. "There are also... A few odd things, nothing that warrants the bullying." And the father's fears were confirmed. His little leaf was being bullied.

"And those oddities would be?"

Bard opted to leave out his pointed ears, as there was nothing that could be done, and he personally found them precious. Not that they were on his father... Not that Bard was having trouble not glancing at the tips peeking from Thranduil's hair... "He... He tends to speak in some language I know has no founding, and his manner of speech is rather..." The teacher paused, trying to find the right word. "He's five, and he speaks like a child out of a medieval movie."

That flicker again, guilt Bard now saw, passed through Thranduil's eyes again.

"That-"

"But-"

The men chuckled awkwardly.

Thranduil took a breathe and shifted his gaze to his sleeping son, whom by the movement of his eyes beneath his lids, wasn't sleeping at all. There was still something being hidden. "Was there anything else?" 

Bard shook his head, having decided that the man didn't need to know the extent of childish cruelty. Legolas let out a little sigh of relief.

Icy blue eyes drifted to the sleeping girl on the bench. "Your daughter?" Bard looked back, then nodded. "Would you want to know if there was a bigger issue involving her?" Brown eyes snapped back to meet the glaciers that were Thranduil's, hard at first before softening. Yes, he would. It would eat at him until he knew.

"There... There was a..." He didn't know how else to say it, and so he reached for the file and pulled out the crumpled paper that had been passed around class that day. With a reluctant hand, he handed the paper to the man. Thranduil took it, catching a glimpse of a few words before Legolas snatched it up, his eyes wide, and darted from his father's arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I left off at an awkard moment, but it was neccessary. I think. It builds up for what transpires in the next chapter. 
> 
> And I know I keep saying the other Bardlings and Aragorn will be introduced, but they just don't wanna come out of the womb that is my mind. I'm aiming for at least Aragorn in the next chapter lol
> 
> Ionneg - My son

**Author's Note:**

> So after a while of being a piece of Barduil trash, because let's all admit that we are trashy Barduil trash, I decided to toss myself into that designated dumpster. God, it smells fantastic here.
> 
> I have read... so damn many Hobbit/LotR fics here, and love every single one. But! Bard always seems to be the one struggling to make ends meet, and Thrandy is a sassy-pants rich bitch. (-said with all the love I have for this trash-) I thought I'd switch things up, and the little family of two will be the ones who will be spoiled rotten by Bard and his Bardlings. Though Bard will never be made to act like a rich bitch. It just ain't in his making. He and his offspring will still be the same as they always are. Which is, y'know... Bardy.
> 
> This was just a little peek at how Thranduil and Legolas interact. I have an idea of how this is going to go, but Tilda might take my typing and cover it with Sigrid's make up, and blare Bain's music, and it could end up going in a totally opposite direction with all those distractions. Oh yeah, Bardy Bardlings. Next will be Legolas's school life, and a possible introduction of the Bardlings.
> 
> Also, the town that this will take place in is based off my hometown in Texas, but will have a different name. It'll be Dale, just cuz. 
> 
> Elvish translations taken from www.realelvish.net
> 
> Ada – Father  
> Ma, ma – Yes, yes  
> Gi melin – I love you  
> Ollo vae – Sweet dreams  
> Galu – Goodbye  
> Novaer – Be good


End file.
